Scene V

Another part of the field

Constable

Orleans

Dauphin

Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all!
Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes. O merchante fortune!
Do not run away.

A short alarum

Constable

Why, all our ranks are broke.

Dauphin

O perdurable shame! let's stab ourselves.
Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for?

Orleans

Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?

Bourbon

Shame and eternal shame, nothing but shame!
Let us die in honour: once more back again;
And he that will not follow Bourbon now,
Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand,
Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door
Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog,
His fairest daughter is contaminated.